The Perfectionists

Chapter 25

WEDNESDAY EVENING, UMA STOOD IN the girls' locker room, shaking out her arms and legs and jumping up and down to keep warm. Her uniform had been freshly washed, and it smelled like fabric softener. Her socks were pulled up, her shin guards in place. She'd checked the hair band on her ponytail at least six times to make sure it was secure. Monk, her monkey keychain, was tucked into her gear bag, and she had a stash of blue-raspberry Gatorade for time-outs.

It was go time. The biggest game of her high school career. Outside the locker room, she could hear the stadium filling up. Before she changed, she'd met the UDub recruiter, a sporty-looking woman in her thirties named Monica. If she played well during this game, she'd be guaranteed a spot on next year's team.

And if she didn't . . .

Uma shut her eyes. She didn't want to think that way.

She sat down and massaged her ankle, trying to ignore the twinges of pain she'd felt in the past few days. All of a sudden, she felt someone staring at her from across the room. Aria, also in her soccer jersey and shorts, smirked at her from the water fountains.

"You feeling okay?" she teased, her gaze dropping to Uma's ankle.

"I'm fine," Uma said tightly. "Good. I'd hate for you to mess up!" Aria sang.

Then, halfway out the door, she stopped and whirled around. "Oh. I forgot. Someone is looking for you."

Uma frowned. "The UDub recruiter? I already met her."

"No . . ." Aria smiled, smug. "Actually, it was a
cop."

Uma's heart stopped. "W-why?" she blurted.

"Oh, I guess the Ben stuff," Aria said. "They're totally getting in everyone's business."

Then she skipped out of the room. Uma's heart pounded. Had they matched her handwriting sample? Stop thinking about it, she told herself. She's just trying to get in your head.

Setting her jaw, she shouldered her gear bag and stormed out of the locker room and into the long, echoing hallway. Kids and their families crammed every nook. Aria had run up to her parents and was boasting about something to her dad, a squat man in a T-shirt that said AAA POOL CARE AND LANDSCAPING.

Then Uma looked back and forth for a police officer, praying he wasn't staked out here, hoping to catch her. When someone pulled on her sleeve from behind, she wrenched away, her heart leaping into her chest.

"Whoa!" Harry backed up, a startled smile on his face. "Sorry!"

Uma's shoulders dropped. "I didn't see you." Then she peered at him. "What are you doing here?" As far as she knew, Harry had never been to a soccer game—not even one of Gil's.

Harry cocked his head. "This is it, right? The big game? I wanted to cheer you on."

"Oh." Uma smiled nervously, then peered around the hall and out into the small courtyard that led to the field. Was Gil here? She hadn't seen him, and they'd barely talked all week. But it seemed crazy for him not to come—he knew how much this meant to her. What if he was watching them right now?

"Uh, let's go somewhere else," she said, suddenly feeling paranoid.

She took Harry's arm and led him outside and under the bleachers to a dark, secluded spot. Metallic sounds of people walking up and down the stands echoed from above. A group of kids burst into laughter. Then someone said, "Whoa!" and a river of cola-colored liquid seeped through a hole in the stands, almost on Harry's head.

"Oops," Uma said, shifting him out of harm's way. "Soccer games are hazardous, you know."
"Nervous? Excited?" Harry asked, his eyes shining.

"A little of both, I guess," Uma admitted. She felt her cheeks redden. "Thanks for coming to this. It means a lot to me."

"No problem. Actually, I brought you something." Harry rummaged in his pockets and extracted a long, thin object. Uma studied it for a moment, then realized it was a pen. Not just any pen, either—a Dungeons & Dragons pen.

She looked up. "Was this the pen I lent you?"

Harry nodded. "The one that was Urson's. I thought you should have it back."

Uma smiled, her eyes welling up for a second before she blinked the tears away. "Thanks."

"I should add that it's brought me good luck through the years," Harry said. "I used it on my driver's test. I used it on finals last semester. I had it in my pocket when I had my nationals debate with the Model UN. I feel sort of . . . safe with it. Although maybe that has something to do with the fact that it used to belong to you.

He was looking at her so sweetly, so earnestly, like she was the most important thing in his entire life. Uma felt her throat close, but her heart open. All of a sudden, what she needed to do seemed abundantly clear. Yes, it would be messy, but it was what she wanted. And if she'd learned anything from Urson—or the fact that the police were breathing down her neck—it was that life was short.

She peered around to make sure no one was watching. Then she leaned forward and kissed him.

For a moment, Harry was stiff, his eyes wide open. But when he kissed her back, his lips were soft and warm. Uma inhaled the grassy scent of his clothes. She ran her hands through his hair, which was so much longer than Gil's sporty-boy buzz cut. Tingles ran up and down her body.

When they pulled away, they both grinned. "I'm sorry," Harry blurted.

Uma gave him a crazy look. "For what? I was the one who kissed you."

"Oh." Harry lowered his eyes. There were two blooms of red on his cheeks. "Well, yeah. I guess you did."

The whistle blew on the field, and they looked at each other again. In a few minutes, Uma's game would be starting. But something else suddenly dawned on her, too. She felt . . . lighter, somehow. Freer. Harry's kiss had opened up a whole new world, and she no longer felt bogged down. If she played well, great. But if she didn't . . . maybe it would still be okay. After all, she'd already won something today, no matter the game's final score.